My eyes were drawn to another bouncer at the back of the room, standing in front of heavy black curtains, black double doors beyond. A small bronze plaque on the wall said Executive Lounge.

That would be where the high rollers would be. Free drinks, attentive service, the prettiest dealers, somewhere a little bit separate from the hoi polloi. I strolled over as if I was a regular. The bouncer here was a few inches shorter than me, but broader and heavier, solid with muscle, the shoulders of his dinner jacket strained taut. He had very short blond hair and eyes like chips of blue ice.

I moved to step past him and he put a big hand on my chest like a policeman stopping traffic.

‘The executive lounge is members only, sir.’

‘I am a member.’

He gave me a little smile.

‘No. You’re not.’ His broad Sunderland accent was calm and quiet, and all the more menacing for it.

‘Listen, I just need to go in there for a minute. I’m looking for my friend Ben. A group of us were out earlier and we got separated. We were going to meet up here.’

The bouncer appeared utterly unmoved.

‘It’s his birthday,’ I added.

‘Members only,’ he said again.

‘I just need half a minute. That’s all. Just to check he got here OK.’

The bouncer’s head swivelled an inch towards me.

‘You tried ringing him?’

‘He’s got it switched off.’

‘Bad luck, that.’

The bouncer moved aside to let a mini-skirted waitress through carrying a tray with a bottle of Moët champagne and four glasses. I watched her disappear behind the curtain, perfect poise on four-inch heels.

As the double doors closed behind her I heard a laugh like Ben’s from the other side, a barking half-shout, loud with alcohol and alpha-male self-confidence.

A week ago I would have been angry that Ben was sitting in there on the other side of the curtain, drinking champagne and gambling and laughing while my family hung by a thread thanks to him. But in the last day or two I had started to become used to it. I expected it. Expected things to happen that would underline the fact that life wasn’t fair. The point was to stop whining and acknowledge it, embrace it, take advantage of it.

Law of the jungle, baby.

I was starting to think like Ben.

‘How do I become a member?’ I said to the bouncer. His nose had been broken at least once, and I wondered what had happened to the man who’d done it.

He pointed a thick index finger towards the exit.

‘Front desk.’

‘Then I can play at a table in there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Great.’ I turned to go.

‘But registration takes twenty-four hours.’

I turned back.

‘Sorry?’

‘It takes twenty-four hours for your registration to be processed. Then you can play.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Company policy.’